


Court of Spoiling Flesh

by Mollydurrbach



Series: Court of Spoiling Flesh [1]
Category: Court of Spoiling Flesh
Genre: 18+, Abduction, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Action, Adolescent Sexuality, Adult Content, Adventure, Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Anarchy, Angels, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Assassins, Badass Cousin, Be honest adolescents are sexually active, Blood Feuds, Blood Kink, Bondage, Castration, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Chinese Mythology - Freeform, Cildmar, Colonies, Conley is my babyyy, Crimes, Daddy Issues, Dark, Dark Magic, Dark Quarter, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Democracy, Demon having a blood kink (surprise surprise), Demons, Dragons, Drama, Drugs, Eating Disorder, Emotional Abuse, Empires - Freeform, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fae are an afterthought lol, Fae being dicks, Fairy, Family, Fantasy, Female Friendships, FemalexFemale, Feuds, Folklore, Forbidden, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Found Family, Foursome, Friends to Enemies, Friendship, Gangbang, Gay gods, Goblins, Gore, Healthy Relationships, Height Differences, High Fantasy, Homophobia, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Incest, Injustices, Irish Mythology - Freeform, Istg if I see y'all sexualizing healthy male friendships, It's only bad when older people are like ooooooo young underdeveloped teens I can take advantage of, Juvelben, Kink, Like absolutely immobilizing puking suck ass, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, MAJOR age difference (like typical 18 year old and 600+ year old), Mabjaughnn, Magic, Male-Female Friendships, MalexMale, Men with swords toooooo, Miscarriages, Mommy Issues, Monarchy, Motherlands, Multi, Murder, Mystery, Mythology References, Nobility, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Orgy, Original Characters - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, Periods, Periods because lets be realistic here some periods for people suck ass, Personal Growth, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Princes, Princesses, Queens, Questioning Sexuality, Racism, Rape, Redemption, Relationship(s), Religion, Revolution, Rituals, Rivalry, Romance, Royal Families, Russian Mythology, Sacrifice, Self-Harm, Selfish indulgence, Sex, Sex Slavery, Sex Trafficking, Sexism, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Shameless Smut, Sibling Rivalry, Smut, So many height differences, Suicide, Threesome, Torture, Trauma, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Trauma, Vaginal Sex, Vass array of drugs, Violence, Virginity is a toxic concept, War, War Crimes, War Criminals, We demand diversity, Witchcraft, Witches, With or without the hypermasculinity, Women I'd let step on me, Women with swords uwu, battles, black market, bloodlines, criminals, dark content, fae, girls supporting girls, guys supporting guys, kings - Freeform, magick, male friendships, maleXfemale - Freeform, power, sensitive content, sharing a bed trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollydurrbach/pseuds/Mollydurrbach
Summary: Human.Innocent.Faye Sifvaa has only ever known her village and her mother's guidance in their home. She wishes for adventure with her friend, Tarian; and she gets it in the most cruel form fate has to give.When Tarian is stolen away in the night by foreign creatures of lore, Faye must decide what she’s willing to give up in order to find the last pieces of her family and entrust her life to a mysterious stranger of the race she hates.Stranger.Whore.Tarian Völtanka has always been a stranger in a strange land, wishing to flee with Faye to the coast and beyond to the green sea. Ripped from her goal by those of myth, and taken into the belly of the beast, she grips on to hope of being rescued or escaping. She has the choice of waiting for her own death, or waiting for a friend that might never find her.Heartless.Liar.Slava Khileschka hasn’t dared look north for 40 years, afraid to find his ghosts and those who would drag him back to hell. Yet, circumstances change and so does the heart. Forced north to find his beloved and unborn have been murdered and hysteria brewing under his patron city, he swears another oath he might be able to keep this time.
Series: Court of Spoiling Flesh [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217978
Kudos: 1





	1. Foreword

_This story is for Gram. Who was the first to listen._

~

Started: 04/03/19

This story contains sensitive, triggering themes; such as depression, ED, suicide, anxiety, rape, etc. I will make sure there are warnings before each chapter. 

Enjoy! 


	2. Part I

**Winter of the Frozen Dead**

_~_

**The Sigde**

_They come in one, twos, threes and fours.  
With chalices spilling with dew and wine,  
With riches worthy of Kings and the fire Drakes,  
And with promises of immortality and youth and power.  
In return, they'll ask for your name,  
Do not give it to them._

_Some of blues, pinks, greens, yellows aglow.  
Bobbing in the air in a dance only they know,  
But are more than willing to teach you.  
Offering you dripping fruits of origins only they know,  
But do not dare to eat their feasts._

_Some of moss, stone, rivers and trees towering the mass.  
Humming the songs of underground,  
The hymns only they can sing.  
They are not willing to teach you their tongue,  
But are more than willing to entertain an audience.  
Gifting you with chains of silver and bracelet of sapphires,  
But do not dare accept their generous offers._

_Than there are some of honey, gold, heat and ash coming for you.  
These ones are silent.   
These ones are motionless.  
These ones grips the bleeding hearts of mortals in one hand,  
And the holy scriptures in the other.  
But they will not warn you of the sins they will kill you for.  
They will bless you with skills to righteous through mud and blood to you willingly,  
Because you kissed their beautiful hands and perfect faces, and accepted them into your home,  
But you better take those skills gratefully,  
And kill them._

_Before they kill you._

**Nactius IV Rathsenet**


	3. Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of rape and murder

**Tarian  
** Cthonéb, Evandí 59th, 239 AAE

Tarian Voltanka, daughter of the dead spell mistriss of their small mountain village, loved the cold; however, Faye, her brunette friend currently whining behind her, despises it with a passion that should’ve been hot enough to thaw the entire north.  
Yet ironically, she still agreed to come with her out into the frozen mountain side of the Scerea alps. Half willingly however, her mother shooing them both out of the house, raising a suspicious eyebrow from Tarian at sight of a spotless house, honey and creamy pastries stocked in the red and blue ceramic bowl sitting on the dining table. Margan, Faye’s mother and her unacknowledged stepmother, smacked her hand away when she went for one this morning. She still has yet to eat.  
She'd immediately thought of some potential suitor for the widow, and that Margan wasn’t quite ready to introduce her daughter and ragamuffin adopted to. Faye only complained, telling Tarian from what she heard from her mother, and Faye’s judgement was this man wouldn’t make their business go anywhere.  
Faye sighed behind her in her sweet sounding, accented voice. Her mother tongue, old Tagerian with a hint of Filisch. Which Tarian couldn’t speak no matter what she tried to teach her. She groans, ‘My socks are wet already.’  
‘You’ll be fine.’ She says, noting how she told her to bring her thick wool ones she was gifted earlier this winter before their departure, and her being so skinny didn’t help keep any heat on her.  
Tarian knew these woods like her own seventeen-year-old body, and it being winter and depending on the time of the day, made it easier to navigate.   
The sun peeked through the cold sky, being selfish with its warmth today and letting the crisp air embrace the two of them instead. It would’ve been better if it was sunny, but the gloom will always be more welcomed than being entirely cloudy or worse, dark.   
The forest almost being alive in the way it treated its explorers, devouring or guiding its adventurer and everything in between, it treated her quite kindly after having been so respectful to it since she was a babe. Never taking more than she needed and always leaving some offering of meat, bones or sinew behind for the guardians.  
Faye asked, her voice muffled by her thick fur hood, ‘Do you think we’ll catch anything?’  
‘If the forest gods will allow it, then yes.’  
She snorts, ‘There’s no gods anymore.’  
‘Oh? I disagree.’ Tarian smiles, knowing it’d draw out an irate reaction out of her.  
‘Why?’ She wonders.  
Smile growing, ‘I’ve seen things happen in the woods lately.’  
Faye says hotly, hating not able to know, ‘What?’  
Teaseing, ‘Oh, I don’t know. A young little lady like you can’t possibly handle the horrors.’  
She felt her come to smack her for mimicking what their priest said to her last fall when she wished to join Tarian on the annual Daihiemn hunts. She dodges and Faye quips, ‘What is it?’  
Giving in, she lets on, ‘Crows. Lots more crows.’  
She spots one not too far away, listening to them, and points it out to her, ‘Like that one right there.’  
Faye came up beside her, squinting as her poor eyesight hindered her. She frowns, ‘That’s creepy.’  
Tarian shakes her head, ‘It thinks we’ll be feeding it this evening.’  
‘What else?’ Faye pushed, discarding the crow who was now protesting at whatever unseen god who poked at it. The two girls continue to walk to Tarian's favorite perch.  
‘There was a slaughtered cow a few weeks ago in another village-’ She adds, ‘-it’s head was lopped off and it’s heart was missing. Probably a faerie sacrifice; or one for a god.’  
Faye shivered, knowing that the forever young faerie came from their courts and burrows in the ground to slaughter their cattle and sheep as tributes to their sun god of Stry, ‘Disgusting. Don’t the faeries also hold massive orgies with unwilling women as well?’  
Biased but Tarian shrugs, ‘Doubt they’re unwilling and that they’re all women, there’s still fae-worshippers popping up every once and awhile.’  
More things happen than just the senseless murdering of cattle and masses of sex. Some will come down during Kavan Afthal, their ancient seasonal celebration of spring that was as old as the mountains they walked on, crossing the border, to collect their sacrifices from humans or a human sacrifice. This reminds Faye of something because she spoke, ‘Did you hear about the Draulein’s girl? She supposedly disappeared last Aeine and her father’s been awfully quiet about it.’  
She hasn’t heard of this news, which surprised her because the only thing the village folk seem to do is talk. She looks to the crow who flew overhead, their black form in stark contrast to the gloomy grey and monotone sky and spoke lightly, ‘She probably ran away with a lover.’  
‘Or not. They found her body by a creek; they think she was raped and murdered.’  
Tarian's heart fell, no one deserved that. Faye huffs, ‘Poor girl, she wasn’t much older than me. Then again, this was all gossip I heard from mother and her friends in the parlor last fortnight.’  
She finds her own frown and carefully spoke to stoke no fire, ‘You shouldn’t believe everything your mother says Faye. You know she’s known for exaggerating.’  
The girl sighs, ‘Yes, I know.’  
They make ten steps before she asks another question, ‘What are children of the forest?’  
Tarian stills for a moment. Calming her heart and replying, ‘Out of superstition, we don’t speak of them in their home.’  
‘Oh.’ Faye says, ‘You do know what they are right?’  
‘Yes. I’d tell you but they tend to be listening. Especially to hunters.’  
Faye laughs and she doesn’t join in, ‘You’re serious?’  
She turns to study Faye’s slender, perplexed face, and attempt to wave it off, ‘Yes. It’s wise to not speak of  
them at this moment. Bad luck and such.’  
She burst out howling, holding her stomach and Tarian was almost insulted, ‘You are one strange hunter my friend.’  
She grins, fear almost forgotten and corrects her, ‘The best strange hunter, and for reward for my respect for the forest is having the best catches every time.’  
Faye laughs again, ‘Well you didn’t do too well last fall.’  
‘No one did, the northerners are hogging all the prey.’ It was true, the northerners did pick apart last year's animals and took the best and most plump from the fruitful summer’s feed, and when the time came for the animals to travel south and run away from the cold, there was barely enough for our village. Tarian even had trouble tracking down and finding them, making her doubt her own impressive, prized skills. Which she considers her entire personality.  
‘Selfish, piggish northerners. All high horses and needless glamour, and absolutely selfish bastards.’  
She laughs, ‘Yes. That is true.’  
An aristocratic, military kingdom ruled by the faery's Golden King, with a belly so large it took ten cows to fill or sixteen full grown men. The colony's settlements in which Faye and her lived in were only there because their queen, Queen Branwenn II of Motherlands, signed a contract with the Golden King for her people to come live here. Which Tarian was thankful for, because she’s heard of the expansive massive cities in the Motherlands were cramped and overfilled with people. And smelled of feces and piss.  
‘Hey Tarian look.’  
She looks to Faye pushing up her pale, freckled nose with a finger and snorting, ‘Ayyyy I’m the Goblin King!’  
Any other place, this would’ve gotten them killed but she laughs.  
Faye dances around her, shouting and snorting in a high squeaky voice, ‘I love bone broth and flies on a skewer!’  
Faye then pushed up Tarian’s nose and encouraged, ‘All hail the Goblin King, let’s hear ye!’  
She snorts, ‘Absolutely not.’  
Faye then falls in the snow, arse first, and Tarian giggles like a smitten fourteen-year-old, ‘Are you drunk?’  
‘No!’ She says very unconvincingly.  
She grabs her hand, hauling her up, ‘Let’s stay on task.’  
Faye lets out a long sigh, resting her hands on her hips, ‘Fine. But tell me honestly, I’d make a wonderful jester.’  
Her smile hurt her face, ‘Fit for the Golden King’s court.’  
Faye barked a laugh.

Tarian led the way to her favorite spot, a nook just before a small drop-off that towered over a creek. Staying still, having clothing that blended in and the wind in their favor, the animal that walked in wouldn’t notice them. Hopefully they would make it there, have an hour or two, then head back before dark.  
Before they got to the cliff nook, they pass an abnormally large stone that towered over them, deep runes carved into it’s flat face and almost seemed to glow and sing in the faint sun. Faye was curious as to what it was and she tells her was an ancient shrine for the forest gods, specifically one with a name Tarian couldn’t pronounce and frankly didn’t mind not being able to as the legend told of its preference for children sacrifices.  
As much as Tarian’s grandfather was a full blooded Teravmenian, a born and raised far easterner who came to the colonies during the Red rebellion and huge engulfing fires that destroyed his homeland 50 years ago, he taught her that names have power in these forests and mountains. Use the names foolishly and be prepared to meet the bearer of that name.  
She also points out smaller shrines peeking out of the snow. Faye, then satisfied with her answers, continues to follow her. The sun still tried to break through the clouds as they arrived. The creek below had already frozen, only a circle of thawed ice allowed the animals to sip from the rushing freezing waters beneath.  
Tarian leapt down to the ledge first, offering Faye a hand and she didn't take it, hissing, ‘I can take care of myself.’  
She had to stifle a laugh, or she’d get smacked. The friends sat together, waiting, Faye knowing better than to talk and scare whatever beast was out there. Tarian and Faye have known each other since they were little, their mothers being close friends before Tarian’s birth had caused her mother’s death. She lived with her grandfather until the cold, harsh winters drove him mad and he was deemed unable to take care of the little Teravmenian.  
So, she went to Margan, the widow didn’t have much say in the matter and she hated that. Making it her goal in life to remind Tarian everyday in some way or another she hated her. For killing her dearest friend or burdening her family with an unruly, uncontrollable orphan, whichever option Margan felt fit the mood that day. Today, if she guessed correctly, she was a burden which never and couldn’t leave because she supplied free labor, and she kept the mothering, nurturing image of Margan, even though she was anything but that to her.   
She shivers as a chill crawls into her clothes. She’d never tell Faye what she thought of her mother. Preferring to think if she kept quiet, it wouldn’t rip her and her mother apart. Yet somehow, Tarian knew Faye knew, but chose to ignore it. She also knew Faye wouldn’t choose to run away because of her mother.  
The air stills. ‘Tarian. Look.’ , she points at something in the trees.  
She never noticed the grey form of a snow bear, or perhaps a wolf, trudging in the snow towards the creek. She wanted to smack herself for not seeing it. Focus. Be aware or be dead.  
Faye grabs her hand abruptly. Tarian flinches. About to yank her hand away until she noticed her eyes, fear.  
She whispers, low as the wind, ‘What’s wrong?’  
As much time as Faye spent in the workplace at home sewing clothes with her mother, her instincts for danger were sharp and she didn't need to tell her they were screaming at her right now. She hardly heard her say, ‘We should leave.’  
Looking back to the beast in the woods, it padded elegantly through the clearing.  
A wolf.  
A huge wolf.  
Bigger than most farm horses. Packless and matte grey fur, it didn’t make a sound. They freeze together, daring not breathe as it might hear. The wolf patiently took it’s share from the waterhole.  
Tarian wanted to draw her bow, not to shoot it with intent of taking it home, but if it came after them. Even if it came after them, it would swallow them whole. She gazes over to Faye, her eyes were squeezed shut, not even looking at the potential danger below them. Wishing it away.  
She couldn’t even hear it lapping. Staring at it made her skin tight and eyes water, a weight pulling her towards them. As if it wasn't of this world. As if it's presence in this realm made the fabrics of time bend into it.  
Faye squeezes her hand. Tarian whispered comfortingly, like a mother to her child, ‘It will leave.’  
She still didn’t open her eyes as Tarian unthreaded her hand from hers. Grabbing her bow and continues to watch the abnormal creature drink, counting the seconds that went by.  
1  
2  
3  
4  
5  
6  
7  
8  
9  
10  
11  
12  
13  
14…  
The wolf lifted it’s head at 47 and looked directly at them. She stilled, the frozen air around them strained like a million threads under a stone.  
It turns to look at Faye, then back at her. Tarian and the grey wolf stared at each other, and a tear from her eyes watering dripped down her chin.  
It turns around and stalks back into the woods. Leaving like it was never here. Never existed. Her lungs hurt from the breath she’d been holding. Her pulse thundered in her neck as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Slowly turning to Faye, who now had her eyes open. They look at each other.  
‘Let’s go.’ Is all she says, and she didn’t have to say another word as they both left.


	4. Chapter II

Tarian  
Cthonéb, Evandí 59th, 239 AAE

Their walk back was swift, Faye leading the way and following their tracks while Tarian trailed behind her. They'd stopped by four traps Tarian set up along the trail in the fall. Two were empty and the other had snared two skinny rabbits. Tarian squatted in the snow and untangled her catch while Faye bounced from foot to foot and rushed her, 'Hurry up before that thing decides to come after us.' Unlikely. Yet still possible, but she decides to say- 'Don't rush perfection Faye.' -instead. Tarian was quick about it. Both of prey being dead spared her friend from a queasy stomach.   
Faye refused to walk behind her in the splattering of blood from the animal's wire wounds. They no doubt had bled on her heavy fur cloak, a slight trail, daring whatever creature brave enough to follow them. Hopefully anything but the wolf they saw.  
Coming closer to their village, Sytment Acloan, Faye suggests in the wake of snow burdened silence, 'We should check on our grandmami. Make sure she's not dead.'  
_Our_. Faye always referred to her grandmother as theirs, as she did for her mother long ago. Tarian replies with a nonchalant ‘sure’.  
Their grandmami’s house is on the way they’re going anyways.  
She loves Faye’s grandmami; she easily filled a mothering position in her life. Being understanding, kind, wise and take no shit, she aspired to be like her. Also, grandmami and her shared a slight dislike for Margan.  
They arrived at grandmami’s house, the familiar and elegant three level, red brick building. In the summer, the walls and chimney would be dressed in pretty small blue and yellow flowers on the vines. Some of Tarian’s fondest memories of pre womanhood were made in the blooming gardens out back. Now the sides and garden were bare, and the usually mossy roof held snow. Perhaps Grandmami’s love for nature and the earth came from appreciating life in a cramped, smoky city. Grandmami was directly from the Motherlands unlike the rest of the settlers in the village, who were second, third or even fourth generation colonese; therefore, Grandmami lived in her grand house away from the rest of them. Away from her wretched daughter.  
Faye happily pounded the detailed iron knocker against the oakwood and Tarian dropped the rabbits as she follows her friend inside. Warmth embracing her as she strips of her unclean cloak, careful folding it so the blood didn’t touch anything and sets it on the wood floor. The interior of Grandmami’s house is as attractive and cordial as the outside, deep warm wood paneling the walls, rich red rugs on the floor, and airy, bright rooms filled with trinkets from other lands and books in languages Tarian could only dream of speaking.  
‘Grandmami?!’ Faye calls out. On receiving no reply, she strips herself of her winter clothes. Leaving her in a deep blue wool dress with soft, white cotton shift underneath to stop the irritating itch.  
Tarian left Faye to turn right into the kitchen and strips herself of her own clothes. Taking her socks and both their boots to the blazing hearth settled in brick, pausing a moment to inspect a little creature cut out of blueish grey resin on the mantle she hadn’t seen before. It had tusks too giant for it’s body jutting out and a snout that curled in the air as if was crying in triumph. It matched the grey one Grandmami had in her art room. She had told her what is was, but she couldn’t rack the name from her memory.  
She hears Faye’s faint voice from the kitchen. No doubt had run off to say her hellos, Tarian makes her way there. She looks around to find the kitchen hearth untended and dying and an unprepped chicken waiting on a cutting board. Faye and her silver haired grandmami appear at the pantry door, the brunette held a jar filled with some fruit and Grandmami sets a gold gilded box from under her arm on a shelf that held all her fine porcelain dishes.  
Faye ogles the jar with intent of eating it with rye bread at breaking fast before her mother wakes, ‘Thank you for the syrup Grandmami.’  
Grandmami reassures, ‘Do not worry child, I have plenty to share. That one is for you and Tarian will pick out one she wants.’  
Tarian squeezes in a remark before Faye could, not bothering with a formal and respectful title for the woman, ‘You could feed our entire village with your preserves.’  
She makes her way to Tarian, wrapping her in a hug and the scent of woodsmoke and wildflower honey, ‘Oh my sweet Tari. How are you? And you know why I don’t feed this village. Selfish bastards’  
Tarian chuckles, ‘I’m well.’  
Faye injects cheekily, ‘And it’d make us fat.’  
Snickering as the aged woman pulls away and claps her hands together, ‘Wonderful.’  
Tarian found herself smiling at her grandmami’s infectious grin.  
Faye interrupts the moment by cooing, ‘O you should tell Grandmami what we saw out in the forest.’  
Grandmami looks at her expectedly and she speaks, ‘We went to my spot up by the ridge and saw a wolf.’  
She listens, both waiting the big conclusion. Tarian not letting on, Faye budges in, ‘It was huge. Like as big as a horse.’  
Tarian could’ve sworn Grandmami’s eyes darkened with concern, but it disappears.  
‘Oh?’ Is all she says. ‘You sure it wasn’t just the angle you were sitting at?’  
‘Yes! It was a giant.’ The brunette exasperates.  
Grandmami looks at Tarian and she shrugs, ‘We both saw it.’  
The woman huffs, ‘If that’s the case, you both must be frazzled-‘  
She gestures to the kitchen table, ‘-have a seat if you please.’ Tarian seats herself and watches Faye leave the room, no doubt to find the bookshelf in the parlour and leaves her jar of preserves unguarded on the table.  
She calls out, ‘I’ll be in the parlour!’  
Returning her gaze back to Grandmami preparing the small chicken. Cutting into it with practiced hands. The crunch and sound of bone and flesh calming, being a hunter settled for unrelatable quirks.  
Tarian wonders about the villages own wood delivery boy while studying the dents and scratches on the table, curious as to how many of them were caused by her friend, ‘Bullsbarry come by yet?’  
‘Yes. The sweet boy came by this morning with my load of kindling, and his mother sent him with my package I’ve been waiting for. It’s taken nearly eight months for it to arrive, the posts are absolutely terrible up here I tell you!’  
‘They should make a clearer trading route then.’  
Grandmami washes her hands and dries them on her pristine apron. She grabs the beautiful box off the porcelain shelf and passes it to Tarian, who takes it carefully, aware of the flecks of blood on her hands.  
The box gilded in gold on its edges and a deep blue velvet underneath. Rectangular and some what flat, a gold latch secured its treasures. Grandmami corrects Tarian, ‘O they did, but not enough because the Queen’s council can’t do anything right.’  
She hums in agreement and asks hopefully, ‘Can I open it?’  
‘Of course love. That’s why I gave it to you.’  
Tarian unlatches the expensive thing, whatever was inside surely worth more than she could count. Lifting it to reveal something that _definitely_ is worth more than she could count. In a grove of silk meant just for it, lays the most stunning necklace she’d ever seen.  
‘O hells.’ She manages to whisper.  
‘Gorgeous, isn’t it? A Southern jewel crafted in Oosmam. Sat for a few 10 years with no one willing to love it. Steep price for its affection though.’ Grandmami chuckles.  
The deep hued green stone centered on the thing were nearly as big as Tarian’s fist and she can see her reflection. The other jewels on the necklace getting smaller than the last, all strung together by gold. The hue of the stones were ones she wasn’t acquainted with, perhaps jade.  
‘What stone is this?’ She didn’t dare reach out to touch it.  
Grandmami seemed more than happy to crow about her find, ‘Royalty call them emeralds. They believe it is a stone of fidelity and luck among other things. Our Queen Branwenn II herself wears a string of them around her neck.’  
Tarian didn’t dare pick it up with her filthy hands despite how tempting it was to put it on and run to admire herself in the mirror (More so the necklace then herself in it.).  
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’ Is all she manages. Partially true, the Scerea alps in the summer were a sight to behold and held some happier times for her, like the view she got as a child when she still lived with her grandpapu on the mountain side. The snow capped peaks, vibrant pine forest at it’s base and the nearly violet rock going upwards was nostalgia for Tarian.  
Grandmami hummed with approval as she turned to finish preparing her chicken. Changing the subject she asks, ‘Are you two staying for dinner?’  
Tarian rips her gaze from the necklace, ‘It’s best we don’t get caught out after dark.’  
‘You could stay the night, but I reckon Margan would skin you alive for not telling her where you’ve run off too.’  
True. Yet not.  
‘She would only skin me alive for letting Faye stay the night.’  
Grandmami tied the legs together with some waxy twine before carefully lowering the seasoned animal in a blackened pot, ‘That woman needs to lighten up or I’ll outlive her.’  
Tarian rests her chin in her palm, ‘You shouldn’t complain about that.’  
Stirring a laugh out of her, she gasps in mock disbelief, ‘You shouldn’t talk like that.’  
Grandmami places the pot on the stovetop that had nothing more than a few scattered embers in ash underneath, she seats herself across from her.  
She looked tired, not her usual self. Not full of charm and life and a single hair out of place. Grandmami looked like the chill was wearing her out and her old bones were finally getting to her. Tarian didn’t often think about it, but she knew, deep down inside, that she and Faye only had maybe more than a year left with her. They’d make plans to come more often.  
As if hearing her thoughts, she reached a gnarled hand to her. Tarian gives hers to her, letting her stroke her knuckles with her thumb.  
‘What is bothering you child?’ She asks softly.  
Tarian flicks another glance to the glimmering necklace, the sun that’s now out peeked through the window and danced on the jewel’s surface. Digging into her pouch holding her outside tools like wire, a small knife and a piece of bread and cheese for Faye if she got hungry, she pulls out a letter among them.  
Handing to her Grandmami, who pulled away to open it and peer at it’s contents Tarian couldn’t read, ‘Who is this from?’  
She clears her throat, ‘Avenn. He left it yesterday on the doorstep.’  
Grandmami meets her eyes with raised eyebrows and Tarian felt a slight flush on her face, she wonders coolly, ‘That’s boy you were talking to this autumn? And why can’t you read yet?’’  
‘I’m trying. Faye hasn’t had enough time nor have we had enough paper or ink.’  
Lie. She hasn’t tried for a year now and she gives all her paper to her to draw on.  
Then there was her relationship with the Hacern’s eldest boy was a lot more complicated than she wanted it to be. Tarian mounted him during their second hunt together and fooled around with him a little while after that. Yet he never took the hint that it was just sex.  
‘Well I can give you both if you’d like?’  
She shakes her head, ‘It’s fine. We’ll just wait till another shipment comes in.’  
She nods and clears her throat before beginning to read,  
‘ _Dear beautiful Tarian,  
I’ve tried speaking to you about our affairs, but you’ve absent every time I go to your resident.  
Have I upset you? We must talk if I did. I want things to work with you.  
Spending last autumn with you was addictive, I remember how soft your skin was, how full your hips were and how you…_’  
Tarian laughed at Grandmami’s blushing face, she shies away when she swats at her with the letter, ‘Quit laughing, or I’ll rip up your scandalous love poem.’  
Tarian taunts, ‘You can do that after.’  
Grandmami tucks a few grey strands behind her ear before continuing,  
_‘…How you cried out into the night.  
I miss you Tarian. I wish to spend more time like that and much more with you.  
Please talk to me.  
You’re the only woman for me-_‘  
They both snorts at that.  
‘ _You have my body and heart.  
Love Avenn._’  
Tarian crosses her arms as Grandmami set down the slightly lewd note. Grandmami breaks the silence after a bit, ‘Shall we turn this into kindling?’  
She grins, a fox’s grin, ‘Absolutely.’  
Both rising, heading to the giant smouldering hearth in the dining parlour. Where Faye sat curled up on a couch, grey leather-bound book in hand. She only looks up at them when Grandmami tosses the letter into the small flames.  
‘What’s that?’ She asks softly.  
Grandmami replies all smiley, ‘Tarian’s unwanted husband I suppose.’  
Tarian the urge to elbow the old woman, instead opting for, ‘No, he is not.’  
‘O, you mean Avenn. I don’t like him.’ Faye’s face contours into a sneer at the man’s name.  
‘Well it seems that this young man has intentions of marrying you Tarian.’ Grandmami pokes.  
No. Never in her lifetime. Tarian matches Faye’s sneer, ‘I’d sooner rather be strung up as a witch than marry him.’  
Grandmami threw her hands up, not understanding, ‘Why not?’  
Faye pushes, about to bury her nose into her book once more, ‘Because he is a pig and Tarian can do better.’  
Grandmami sighs, ‘You girls are too picky, you’ll end up alone.’  
Tarian points out, ‘You ended up alone, and even if we do. Faye and I will just marry each other and move into a little mountain cottage.’  
Faye perks up, ‘With lots of cats.’  
‘Exactly.’  
Their grandmami lets out a heavy sigh that made Faye giggle, ‘You two are terrible. Margan would skin you both if it ever came to that.’  
She then offers, changing the subject, ‘Better get something for you two to eat before you take your leave.’  
With that Grandmami makes her way back to the kitchen. Tarian plops herself beside Faye, leaning into her shoulder, ‘What are you reading?’  
Faye hums, cocking her head so she can see pass Tarian’s raven hair, ‘Mes Locher di mes Oitte.’  
She nods, Faye’s mother tongue language, something Tarian couldn’t read. Some days there would be a vicious jealousy she keeps locked in her heart at the fact Faye had the tools to transport herself to other magical places in books. Tarian had tried to learn to read and write but given up after words had different genders assigned to them.  
‘What’s it about?’ She bugs.  
Faye lets out a sigh that sounds like the one her Grandmami just let out, ‘It’s about a maiden and her forest, and she has to protect it from the King of her land from letting the lumbermen into it.’  
‘Ah, I see.’  
Faye flicks her studious eyes to her and says, ‘You should try to learn to read again.’  
She shakes her head, chuckling, ‘Might get too smart for the village men. Might get burned at the stake for it.’  
Faye nudges her playfully as she rests her head on her bony shoulder, watching Faye turn the pages every once and awhile. Each page containing rows of elegant and purposeful placed black ink, that Tarian didn’t understand. There are a few letters she knew like _the_ = _mes_ , _ne_ = _a_ and _eoli_ = _me_.  
She always joked that she was the beauty of the two whilst Faye was the brains, which was only half truth, half lie.  
Faye’s beauty nearly matched hers, the thigh length lustrous brown hair she’s never cut and rubbed oils into it weekly, the perfect unmarred skin, high cheek-boned face with large brown eyes. She looked like the beautiful fairy she’s named after. That and she had the likeness of a fawn, they’d like to play pretend before they started their bleeding, Faye a fairy princess and Tarian, sometimes a knight, sometimes a hunter.  
Yet now days, her trademark hair is dull, her skin blanch and usually dark freckles pale, all because of the cold. Faye loves the warmth, even though her skin would burn so easily unlike Tarian’s.  
Tarian knew she herself was beautiful too. Beautiful enough to warrant the attention of most men for second or third glance, mostly for her stunning eyes. A light glass green, sometimes there’s blue, but only a hint.  
Tarian’s been told by many, many people that it’s her defining quality. Especially since she has a darker skin colour, being a coastal Teravmenian halfling, and her eye colour being the only memory of her father she’d never met. Grandpapu told her that her mother had brown eyes, and yet he’d never met her father, so it was only a guess.  
Tarian has also been called many things because of a result of her being attractive, that ‘she’s exotic’, ‘she’s different’ and ‘beauty of a goddess’. One man has said that to her as a young woman. One very man who’s more special to her than she wants him to be. Or she’s called things like ‘she wasn’t in touch with the divine femininity’ or ‘wouldn’t make a good wife’ or ‘a whore’.  
The village priest says all sorts of nasty things to her, as if she had to prove she did in fact obtain those qualities by putting the health of every man and child she meets over hers.  
She is not too interested in draining herself like that. Tarian had always called carrying a child a waste of time, however the horrifying thought of something growing inside her like a disease never ceased her monthly activities; and although the priest claimed to be a holy man, he looked at Tarian like he wasn’t a man bound by Mag. His holiness made her unsettled.  
Grandmami returned with a tray and Faye sets her book down, marking her page with a ribbon. Their Grandmami offers a steaming teacup, Faye graciously accepts with smile and Tarian accepts hers with a thank you.  
The yellow biscuits on a plate beckons to Tarian’s stomach and it growls in return. The two women look at her, before Grandmami shakes her head in disappointment whilst Faye cackles, ‘Are you sure you’re hungry Tari?’  
Tarian elbows her. Then reaches for a biscuit to devour.  
She bites into her treat and notices Grandmami sipping on her tea with her pinky raised strangely. About to point it out, Faye reads her thoughts and beat her to it, ‘Why is your finger raised?’  
Grandmami replies, ‘Court manners. None which you have.’  
‘O, you love us for it.’ Faye coaxes and she smiles.  
Tarian too busy stuffing her face to join in on their conversation until Faye pointed out, ‘You’d never eat like that around a boy eh Tari?’  
Tarian manage to get out a muffled, ‘Bugger off.’  
Swallowing her treat with a mouthful of sweet tea, she continues, ‘And you seem too busy talking to eat.’  
She grabs a biscuit and waves in front of her, ‘You should eat before Margan starves us when we get back.’  
Faye reluctantly takes the treat from her, but doesn’t bite into it. Grandmami eyes narrow but she asks, ‘Did I ever show you my latest purchase Faye?’  
‘No.’ Faye says sweetly.  
‘I will show you after we’re done.’  
Tarian zones out after this, chowing down on another biscuit before realizing there was berry jam on the tray. This adds greatly to her enjoyment.  
She perks up again at the question of, ‘I heard Margan is with child again?’  
Faye sets down her biscuit and Tarian listens intently, ‘That’s what I’ve been told, but there are no signs. No morning sickness and she should have a baby bump by now.’  
Margan was probably lying or lost it and never told anyone about it. Tarian didn’t say anything.  
Grandmami nods, ‘Do you know the father?’  
Faye clasps her teacup in both hands, ‘I have an idea of who it is.’  
Raising her eyebrows, Grandmami asks, ‘Who might that be?’  
‘There was a Dark Quarter knight that came through at the beginning of summer. Tall, handsome fellow, he brought flowers for mother and I. Quite nice. He left as soon as harvest begun.’  
Tarian quirks a brow, this was the first she was hearing of this.  
‘Ah, this is old news I’m just hearing about and a knight of that kind-’  
She snorts, ‘-no wonder this is the first I’m hearing of it. Wouldn’t go around babbling about something like that. Would get her killed. At least she’s still has my intellect.’  
Faye smiles forgivingly, ‘Quite.’  
Tarian adds, ‘This is the first time I’ve heard of this too. Why didn’t you say anything Faye?’  
‘Because mother did not wish for me to speak of it.’ She says softly.  
Her mother keeps her own secrets quite well, Tarian will give her that as a redeeming quality. Silence fell among them.  
Faye breaking it as she picks up the biscuit and nibbles on it, staring out the window at something only she could see. Tarian brushes the crumbs off her chest into her palm before dumping it into her emptied teacup. Taking notice of the dimming golden light on the floorboards. She suggests after Faye finishes her morsel, ‘We should take our leave.’  
Grandmami gathers the dishes as Tarian and Faye help. In the kitchen again, Grandmami shows Faye the gorgeous necklace before putting it away, cueing a lot of ooo’s and aaa’s from her. While they did that, Tarian put the dishes neatly beside the wash bin and Faye came to help when Grandmami went to put her treasures away; only to come back up and demands Tarian to come with her.  
Grandmami brings her to her coldroom and tells her to pick out what preserve she wants. How full the shelves were was impressive, even in the dim light and shivering from the chill in her bare feet, Tarian was able to out a dark, sweet looking jam. Grandmami telling her that one was her favourite and she thinks she’ll like it too.  
Saying their thanks. Grandmami keeps them a moment longer to give Faye her own letter to her daughter. While waiting, Faye said,  
‘It’s like a queen’s jewel.’ Faye cooed.  
Tarian grins, correcting her, ‘It is queen’s jewel.’  
Faye continued to fawn over it as they said their goodbyes, making Grandmami promise to let her and Tarian wear it the next time they come over.

Their walk back to their village was short, Faye’s cobble house was nestled in between three trees on the outskirts of town.  
In Tarian’s own opinion, their town is perfectly small, houses for the butcher’s family, the baker’s, the tiny smithy, the grocery store, the church ironically beside the two competing taverns, the six-bedroom inn and finally the fancy building in the village, the royal post. Then the few scattered residents of the people that live here.  
Her opinion also included it’s a small town for even smaller minded people.  
Faye and Tarian sneak inside the house through the back door in case Margan’s guest is still here, the clean scent of oranges and mint still lingers in the air from Margan’s incense and the aroma of spiced stew. She’d dropped the rabbits and two jams outside, she’ll deal with them later.  
Faye singsongs, ‘Mami? I’m home!’  
Per usual, Tarian trails behind her, making sure to stay out of sight until she knew the man is gone. Margan stood in the kitchen, preparing even more food, the pots and pans stacked high beside the wash bin. Faye kisses her mother’s cheek in greeting and gives her the letter.  
She peers at the elegantly prepared paper, ‘What is this? About time you two came back. I have chores for the both of you.’  
Faye informs her, ‘It’s from Grandmami.’  
Margan completely ignores Faye to raise a lip at the sight of Tarian’s dirt hands.  
‘You’re filthy.’ Is all she comments. Tarian catches herself nearly shrugging her shoulders, treading, ‘Caught two rabbits out on the mountain forest.’  
The unhappy hag hums in something that sounds ungrateful, then turns to Faye, ‘You better not be dirty too?’ I won’t be heating up no water for you either.’  
Faye, says with more respect than Tarian could ever muster, ‘Of course not, I’m quite clean.’  
The woman looks to the ceiling as she sets down a last plate that had an tiny blue equily flower painted on it.  
‘Thank Mag.’ She sighs before rattling off orders, ‘Faye, we’re having guests tonight. Important guests, so go clean up and help me in the kitchen after-‘  
Her daughter scurries off to her room before Margan turns to quiet Tarian, ‘-And you. You need to be out of the house tonight.’  
She raises an eyebrow, edging ‘Why?’  
Margan, cranky from having to deal with preparation for visitors all day snapped, ‘None of your business. Also Bullsbarry was kind enough to drop some firewood off so it needs to be split before you leave.’  
She grits her teeth, ‘Anything else?’  
Margan, replying with a spite that wouldn’t be there if Faye was still standing beside her, ‘Yes actually. You can do the dishes.’  
‘Of course.’ Is all she says as she goes back outside.

The logs were thin. However, they were full of knots and that made it increasingly difficult to chop.  
Most times, hitting something would soothe Tarian’s anger, but the damn tinder added to it instead.  
Margan is the increasingly annoying antagonist in Tarian’s life, from the way she treats her family to the way she’s just a awful persona to be around.  
_Chop_.  
She couldn’t stand her.  
Ripping the ax out to bring it down upon the wood again. It still refuse to split.  
Faye wondered why Tarian suggested they leave a week ago, after church and their worship for Mag. After Priest Cirche tried to make her stay afterhours, which she excused herself that Margan needed her to clean the house. Thinking about it gives her the shivers.  
She knew why she wondered and proceeded to interrogate her, Tarian had to give her some sympathy. It’s her mother she wants her to leave behind. The only parental figure she’s ever had.  
_Crack_.  
Finally splitting, she tosses it in a leather wood bag to carry to the house.  
Despite how horrible of a parent Margan was, ignoring Faye as a toddler and letting her roam the village, not bothering to feed or clean her. Margan wonders why she was sent by the priest to her Grandmami to live with so Margan could figure her life out.  
Bringing the ax down once more, leaving to pull her heavy wool sweater over her head to alleviate herself of overheating and sweating. Tossing it somewhere in the backyard.  
_Crack_.  
The wood separated with ease and she let loose a breath. Black hair that had fallen from her braid moving with it.  
_Chop_.  
Faye didn’t see the problem with her mother. Or didn’t want to. Yet Tarian would never say any of this to her, it’s a delicate subject they’ve discussed once and it ended badly.  
_Chop_.  
Badly as in they screamed at each other-  
_Chop_.  
And didn’t talk to one another for two weeks.  
_Crack_.  
So Tarian swings her ax and brews. Careful not to cut off her legs with being so distracted.  
‘Hello?’ A familiar, low voice calls out.  
Tarian jumps.  
She sees Avenn stood on the other side of the board fence, looking awkward as if he’s been standing there for a while.  
She took the ax and teasingly points it at him to hide her embarrassment, ‘Scare me again and I’ll lop off your head.’  
She may not like him anymore, but she didn’t see the means to be rude. Afterall he’s harmless despite being a hunter like herself.  
He rubs the back of his neck, a slight flush to his face, ‘I didn’t mean to, and it’d take a lot to maim me. I’m a lot stronger than you.’  
Letting her fox grin spread across her face while batting her eyes, ‘If you’re so much more stronger than me, you should chop this cursed wood for me?’  
Not bothering searching for the gate, he leaps over the fence, absolutely happy to help. He returns her smile, ‘Ah a damsel in distress.’  
He still likes her, so she will use that little advantage.  
By getting him to do her hard labor.  
Avenn split the wood far easier than she could, so she stacks in the leather bag. Leaning against the fence after filling it and watches the man. She always kind of liked him, he smelled nicer than the village men and acted kinder, but what he wants in life is far different than her. Yet who asks a woman what she wants?  
After he finishes, catching her gaze and doesn’t bother to say anything. They sit in stiff silence before he clears his throat, ‘Are you angry at me?’  
‘No.’ She states coolly. She told him what she thought already, yet he remains persistent.  
‘Then why are you ignoring me?’  
‘Because I told you already Avenn-‘ She rolls her shoulders, ‘-I don’t want a relationship.’  
She knew what he thought by meeting his eyes, even if he’s too polite to say anything. Thinking of something modest like ‘harlot’ instead of ‘cock tease’ or ‘seasoned whore’. He may be nice, but he’s still a man.  
‘You’ve never told me that.’ His eyes narrow.  
Smiling, she corrects, ‘I’ve said to find yourself a humble little wife Avenn. I didn’t mean me.’  
Gesturing to her body with a hand, ‘I mean, you’ve seen me before. I would not make a good wife.’  
His throat bobs. Voicing his disappointment, ‘Oh…’  
It’s easy to tell he’s regretting helping her now. Her heart tugs at the sight of him. Maybe he is deserving of some pity from her. Maybe.  
Going to him and wrapping her hands around his neck, playing the curly, brown strands at the bottom of his hair. She admires his blue eyes, striking, as striking as hers.  
Going onto her toes, laying a ghost of a kiss on his lips. Surprised when she forgotten how soft they were, softer than hers, whispering, ‘I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, but we can always do other things.’  
He reaches for her as she pulls away. As Tarian readies to take the bag inside, his voice breaks, ‘I think we should stop seeing each other then.’  
He uses the gate this time, his fragile heart stepped on, she calls out, ‘It’s for the better Avenn.’  
He ignores her.  
Sighing, she returns inside. Leaving the wood in by the hearth, she decides to distract herself by cleaning out the rabbits.  
Snatching her skinning knife that is beginning to dull, making note to take it to the smithy later, she sets to work. By the time she had two malnourished pieces of meat, she takes the cold box out of the snow. Putting it in and reburying it has her clear minded.  
Heading back into the warmer house, bringing the jams and doing her absolute best to avoid Margan in the kitchen, she climbs the stairs to find Faye combing her hair in her room.  
Well, their room. There’s a cot hidden under Faye’s bed for Tarian since Margan wouldn’t let Tarian sleep anywhere else but the freezing attic. Margan didn’t know because her bedroom is downstairs.  
Tarian took a seat on the bed, and Faye immediately asks, not turning from her focus from her long hair, ‘How’d things go with Avenn?’  
‘You were watching?’  
Her room’s window overlooked the backyard. Easy spying.  
She tsks, ‘Of course, I am the all seeing, and I saw you kiss him. That was gross.’  
Tarian snickers, ‘That’s a great way to disguise your jealousy.’  
Faye applauded, gives her a fake gasp, ‘It was.’  
‘Aw poor Faye, all alone with no man to wipe away her tears.’  
Tarian was ready when Faye came to swipe at her head with her brush, then continues to clutch it to her chest while swaying around her room melodramatically, ‘I know, I haven’t my first kiss yet.’  
‘We could line up all the boys in the village. I’m sure they’d love to kiss you.’  
She glares, ‘That’s even more disgusting than having to watch you mash lips with your man.’  
It’s Tarian’s turn to act applauded, ‘It’s not like you couldn’t of looked away.’  
‘But I would’ve missed the spiciest part of them all. You rejecting him. My need for entertainment for today has been sated’  
‘You heard us too?’ She furrows her brows.  
Faye demonstrates with her fingers, ‘I may of cracked the window a smidgin.’  
‘You might as well throw open the entire window, because I’m going to throw out all the trust I had in you.’  
Waving off her sarcasm, ‘You love me too much.’  
Tarian opens her mouth to hurl more nonsense at her but she cuts her off, ‘Are things done with him?’  
She threw herself backwards on the bed, thinking of her answer, ‘I doubt it.’  
He’s definitely done with her, unless he wants to act like every other privileged noble in this run down settlement. She wasn’t going to say that though.  
Faye was about to add something until Margan walks in. Obliviously eavesdropping, she comments, ‘Perhaps if Tarian was a man, we wouldn’t have to worry about these things.’  
Tarian says, ‘Only if I was Miss Sifvaa.’  
Margan raises an eyebrow like she wasn’t talking to her, ‘Have you come to distract my daughter with your meaningless gossip?’  
Acts like she doesn’t do the same behind her back.  
Schooling her expression into one of stone, she says blatantly, ‘No. I was just leaving.’  
Margan rushes her, ‘Better get at then.’  
Tarian shoots a small wave to Faye as she walks out the door. Feeling a headache looming, she wonders what she’ll do on this fine evening. Avoid Avenn for sure. Perhaps she’ll drink. Having a craving for the absurd confidence it gave her. After having to deal with the wolf, Margan and Avenn, she feels entitled to one.  
God. She needs a drink.


	5. Aiß Se Signa Calendar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dictionary  
> -all in old Foisch-
> 
> Afthal:  
> end of a season
> 
> Kekrir: (singular)  
> month
> 
> Kekrirsa: (plural)  
> months
> 
> Naimnir:  
> a celebration of Stryean

**Aiß Se Neriaheim**  
-clock-

111 minutes per hour  
1111 seconds in a hour

 **Dawn**  
Äwne 1-9th hours  
Darir 10-18th hours

 **Day**  
Dagan 19-27th hours  
Nülí 28-36th hours  
Nol 37-45th hours

 **Twilight**  
Cíarad 46-54th hours  
Cthlona 55-63rd hours

 **Night**  
Cíldoth 64-72nd hours  
Ailiß 73-81st hours  
Airam 82-90 hours

Aiß 0 hour

90 hours in the full cycle  
9999 hours in a full cycle  
99990 seconds in a full cycle

**Aiß Se Sigg**  
-week-

10 days in a week

 **Stryb**  
The day of the testicles 

**Cthonéb**  
The day of darkness

 **Tøth**  
The day of death

 **Aeine**  
The day of fire

 **Daiva**  
The day of the womb

 **Gøkk**  
The day of wind  
  
 **Strakk**  
The day of earth

 **Naivig**  
The day of water

 **Hemnéb**  
The day of life

 **Soßí**  
The day of light

**Aiß Se Signa**  
-the cycle-

 **Iolina Saschne**  
1 day  
Iolina Saschne is only one day, signifying the beginning of a new year.  
 _Naimnir_ : **Nokkhel** ; the celebration of a new year. Most tend to party all night and day, before preparing for Gideor tair Gefinya the next day. 

**Gideor tair Gefinya**  
1 day  
Gideor tair Gefinya is considered the day you are closest to heaven, it is the day of life restarting.

**Vänl**  
-spring-  
In foisch, Vänl means spring and Vänä is a popular girl's name in the west.

 **Avänl**  
10 days  
Avänl is the celebratory week of winter going into spring. Most tend to plant a seed of sorts in a small pot engraved with prayers to Hedel Paiva.

 **Nelfheim**  
66 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 1st  
 _Naimnir_ : **Aldheim** ; the celebration of the moon, the moon god Gil Maahiem and light magic. Aldheim is on Nelfheim 47th.

 **Kekl**  
67 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 2nd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Usleimn** ; the celebration of the old gods and fertility. Usleimn is on Kekl 8th. There's many blood rituals this day.

 **Mävä**  
68 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 3rd  
 _Naimnir_ : Hanaiam; the celebration of femininity and the day to honor your sisters, mothers, grandmas, aunts, cousins, your lover and female friends. Hanaiam is on Mävä 16th. 

**Bezchky**  
70 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 4th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Marydolf** ; the celebration of fertility and growth. Marydolf is on Bezchky 20th.

 **Vorh**  
72 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 5th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Sannikia** ; the celebration of color and spicy, rich foods. This celebration lasts five days. Sannikia is on Vorh 32nd. 

**Madaon**  
90 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 6th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Se** **Laura** ; the celebration of Hedel Paiva, the goddess of life. Se Laura is on Madaon 70th. This day is prime for praying for the fertility for a child. 

**Kavan Afthal**  
12 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 7th  
Kavan Afthal is the seventh and last kekrir of Vänl. Having a total of 1 week and 2 days.

**Sömmer**  
-summer-  
Sömmer is summer and the season of Stry, our sun god.

 **Sammeriul**  
10 days  
Sammeriul is the celebratory week of spring turning into summer. Most will sacrifice a spring lamb or calve for the sun god Stry.

 **Seltas**  
70 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 1st  
 _Naimnir_ : **Böll** ;the celebration of children that have all come of age (16), competitions and rites are held for the children. Females who are menstruating this are considered blessed by Stry and Hedel Paiva themselves. Böll is on Seltas 51st.

 **Letan**  
68 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 2nd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Knulla** ; the celebration of pleasure, sex and fertility. Knulla is held over a three day span, and you're only allowed to participate if you're over 16. Knulla is on Letan 21st.

 **Etnizch**  
75 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 3rd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Mjuim** ; the celebration of family, unity and the summer gods blessing us. Mjuim is on Etnizch 75th. Held with lots of feasts.

 **Tähtiva**  
67 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 4th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Theas** ; the celebration of the first fruit harvest and honors the midsummer. Theas is on Tähtiva 59th.

 **Kësa**  
62 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 5th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Cennria** ; the celebration of the water gods, rainfall and the sea. It's common to spend the entire day in some form of water. Cennria is on Kësa 44th.

 **Ishna Leto**  
90 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 6th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Stryvia** ; the celebration of the sun god, Stry. They harvest their first harvest and second fruit. Stryvia is on Ishna Leto 70th.

 **Samad Afthal**  
13 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 7th  
Samad Afthal is the final week and seventh kekrir of Sömmer.

**Gideor tae Cthona**  
1 day  
Gideor tae Cthona is considered the day where you can be the closest to Hel possible, no one does anything this day and the doors are painted with red paint in honor of their death gods.

**Autheim**  
-autumn-  
Autheim is fall, when the seeds planted in Vänl start to turn.

 **Autelia**  
10 days  
Autelia is the time where summer turns into autumn. Many will prepare food for winter in this one week. Has 1 week.

 **Nawä**  
62 days  
Nawä is the first kekrir of Autheim, and having a total of 6 weeks and 2 days. Nawä has Daihiemn as it's holiday, Daihiemn is when the first hunt of the year is held and courting and mating rituals are quite common on this day as well. It is on Nawä 2nd.

 **Eftheim**  
70 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 2nd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Hobhai** ; the celebration of the second hunt and honoring the thinning Víl between worlds. Hobhai is on Etfheim 70th.

 **Ceia**  
68 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 3rd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Daiheim** ; the celebration of masculinity with friendly competitions, and a day to honor our fathers, grandfathers, brothers, uncles, cousins, your lover and friends. Daiheim is on Ceia 55th.

 **Tudeneim**  
68 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 4th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Bethar** ; the celebration of the last harvest and is the day to honor the old and new gods with sacrifices of our harvest. It is on Tudeneim 17th.

 **Helf**  
72 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 5th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Svebalt** ; the celebration to honor the beloved and unnamed dead by holding a huge feast. Svebalt is on Helf 13th.

 **Reggor**  
93 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 6th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Mannír** ; the celebration that honors the dark and old gods that are about to send winter upon us and also is the beholder of the last hunt. It is on Reggor 70th.

 **Aumar Afthal**  
12 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 7th  
Aumar Afthal is the final and seventh kekrir of Autheim, and has a total of 1 week and 2 days. Many will spend these 12 days preparing for winter and readying their food supply.

**Zïmna**  
-winter-  
Zïmna is winter, in foisch it means snow season. Zïmna used to be called Cthonänil, which meant season of Cthona and Cthona is a symbol of death.

 **Zïnteir**  
10 days  
Zïnteir is the celebratory week of autumn going into winter, with a total of 1 week. Zïnteir is held in high concerns of priests and the majority of parents of the old ways, believing that the children must behave or else Cthona will lure them into the snow to freeze.

 **Ïma**  
69 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 1st  
 _Naimnir_ : **Dömma** ; the celebration the night, winter and snowfall. Dömma is on Ïma 63rd.

 **Gavennes**  
69 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 2nd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Uöll** ; the celebration of music and love. Honoring the goddesses of the arts, most give gifts to their loved ones this day. Uöll is on Gavennes 62nd. Many will honor 

**Zivnïda**  
80 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 3rd  
 _Naimnir_ : **Callanam** ; the celebration of loved ones like spouses and lovers, and the day of Kanekta Taiva, the goddess of pleasure and love. It is common for proclamations of love and marriage proposals to made this day. Callanam is on Zivnïda 8th. 

**Zivmtri**  
99 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 4th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Ankill** ; the celebration of fire, heat, and the forge. Honoring the god of the inner earth, Strak. Ankill is on Zivmtri 20th. The people will hold huge bonfires in honor of Strak.

 **Altel**  
24 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 5th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Om Raiva** ; the celebration of Om Raiva herself, the stars, the healing of Víl. Om Raiva is on Altel 14th. This day, there is stargazing but students of school will apply to universities in bigger cities for a better education in science or medicine, believing it'll bring them luck doing it on this day.

 **Evandí**  
91 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 6th  
 _Naimnir_ : **Hellas** ; the celebration of Hellas and Hel, and death. Hellas is on Evandí 70th. Cthonaic rituals are held on this day, as the high priests will permit it. Most healthy individuals will put out their fires and any light source in their household.

 **Ïmayla Afthal**  
13 days  
 _Kekrir_ : 7th  
Ïmayla Afthal is the final and seventh kekrir of Zïmna. Now is time to prepare for the end of the year and the beginning of the next one.

**Cthonia Aam**  
1 day  
Cthonia Aam is the day of the end and is only one day, signifying the end of the year. It's twin is Iolina Saschne, which is the day of the beginning and is only one day too.  
 _Naimnir_ : **Nakavanhel** ; the celebration of the end, starts when the clock strikes Aiß signifying the beginning of the end. Most people on this day will pray for luck from Cthona and light the pyres of their church and they will spend the day fasting and singing hymns from Strigna vol. IV (as the entire scripture is about the cycle. Birth, death and rebirth.).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something for reference :)  
> (Try and help you out somewhat)  
> It's a fantasy world, so why not slap on a fantasy time system!
> 
> P.S.  
> I'm thinking of adding a dictionary so I can add the fantasy words for everyone!!


End file.
